Chapter 18
Colt
Steven screams as I hammer another nail into his thigh. Sweat pours down his face, his blond hair sticking to his forehead, and tendons strain against his throat as he pants.
“I’ve got a bet on that nail eight is what’ll break you. That”—I point at his legs—“is number seven. Can you hold out for one more?” I examine the nail gun, the power tool comfortable in my hand, and wait for a response.
Steven remains quiet, as he has done for most of the afternoon.
Except for the screaming and panting, of course.
He’s the only survivor of the attack on us two days ago, and so far, his phone and the car have given away nothing about his employer.
It was likely organized by Ranger and got out of hand, but I want to hear this fucker say it.
He grits his bloodstained teeth, breathing hard and fast as he stares at the metal protruding from his thighs, but doesn’t answer my question.
I look over my shoulder at Taf. “You’re gonna owe me fifty bucks in about two minutes.”
“Give him time!” Taf insists. “Steven, dude. Just tell us who you work for, for fuck’s sake.”
Steven remains quiet. I stand, and a resounding cheer from the bar below has us both looking at the door.
“Your wife must be here,” Taf says, grinning, and I grin, too.
The sound of heels up the narrow wooden staircase proves Taf’s prediction correct. Seconds later, Denver steps through the door, her heavy woolen coat dotted with snow, her scarf loose.
“Wife,” I say.
She bats her lashes at me. “Husband.” She removes her scarf and looks at Steven. “Still not talking?”
“Nope,” Taf says, biting into his apple. “Quiet as a mouse.”
Denver frowns. “Just cut his balls off.”
“Nah, he’ll bleed out,” I say, holding the nail gun to Steven’s thigh and firing. He screams, throwing his head back. Quick pants leave his mouth. “Memory improved?”
“Fuck you!” he bellows.
Denver tuts and searches through her purse, producing a small flip knife from her purse. Her father’s. She pulls out the blade and approaches Steven with an air of impatience. “If you cut his dick off, he’d bleed out,” she corrects, getting to her knees. “His balls will be fine.”
Placing the blade between her teeth to free up her hands, she starts unbuckling his belt.
Taf gives her an intrigued look. “Seriously?”
She nods, taking the knife from her mouth and whipping the belt free of the loops. “There are no major arteries in the scrotum. I can cut them off fairly easily, not a lot of bleeding. It’ll hurt like a—”
“The Morellis!” Steven screeches, wriggling in the seat and staring at Denver. “I work for Massimo!”
Denver and I share a look—one of quiet concern.
She returns her attention to Steven. “The attempt on our lives. Was Ranger involved?”
Steven shakes his head rapidly. “No, all his deals with the families in the city have dried up. No one has heard from him since his kid died.”
Denver stands, folding the knife back into the handle.
So, the Morellis have finally turned on us. It was something we saw coming, but now it’s been confirmed, we have to move. They have the ears of too many families—we need to retaliate, swiftly, before this disease grows.
While Taf takes care of Steven, we take the narrow staircase down to the bar. It’s mid-afternoon and quiet, but Lewis is in conversation with some of the patrons. His brows raise in question when he sees us, but our expressions must tell him everything, and he quietly takes us to the car.
Once we’re home, Denver gets in the shower, and I call Alistair to update him.
He sighs heavily down the line. “Fucking great. I’ll meet with Sabina, get her on side. She won’t have supported this.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
Alistair is quiet for a beat. “How’s Denver?”
The question almost has me toppling over. I sit on the end of the bed. “She’s good. We’re actually thinking of having a little get-together. A post-wedding wedding. If you want to be there.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I focus on the carpet. I want him there. Denver even wants him there. She’s desperate for us to fix this.
“Sure. As long as you don’t have another fucking bachelor party. I barely survived the first one.”
I smile. “Chickenshit. You did fine.”
“I was so drunk I bought a boat.”
“A very pretty boat,” I remind him. “And you’re a great captain.”
He laughs, and my grin widens. It feels like forever since we talked like this, and I can already feel the tension leaving my shoulders.
Alistair says, “Listen, I’m fucking sorry.
I’m sorry for being the way I am with Denver …
I just have this splinter in the back of my brain that makes me suspicious of her, and I can’t pull it out.
I want to let it go. I will let it go. You’re married.
You married her.” He sighs. “I waited to see if you’d call and want to talk about it, and you didn’t. ”
“Can you blame me?”
“No, I can’t, and that’s when I realized this has all gone too far. I’m missing out on this. And I forgot … I forgot that this can’t be easy for you. That it must be weird to be married again. I forgot how you felt in all this, and I’ve not been there for any of it, and I’m so fucking sorry, Colt.”
The heated words we exchanged have sat on my chest since we said them, but they cool slowly.
“I’m sorry for thinking you’d send that footage to the cops,” I say. “And for hitting you.”
“I’m sorry for basically calling your wife a black widow.”
“You can apologize to her for that one.”
His laugh is short. “That’ll be a fun conversation. Keep me up to date with the meeting with Sabina.”
The call ends, and I remove my shoes before entering the en suite. Denver is wrapped in a towel, her hair wet and draped down her back as she brushes her teeth. “Who was on the phone?”
“Alistair,” I say, leaning against the doorframe. “I let him know about the Morellis, and we both apologized.”
She faces me, her eyes bright. “Really? That’s great.”
It makes me love her even more how genuinely happy she is that Alistair and I have fixed things. She’s willingly accepting someone into her life that doesn’t like her, purely because he’s my friend.
And I almost lost her a few days ago.
“I’ve been thinking,” I say, approaching her. I wipe away some toothpaste from her lip. “Maybe we should go and stay with Holly and my mom.”
She shrugs. “Sure. It could be nice to have a break.”
“I mean for good,” I say, and her shoulders soften.
Her cheeks are flushed from the shower, and I run my thumb across the soft, pinkened skin.
“We can’t leave the country until this mess is cleaned up, but we also don’t need to be knee deep in it, either.
If we’re in the Hamptons, we’re close enough if we’re needed but far enough away that people aren’t going to try and kill us outside of our house.
” Denver chews her lip, her gaze drifting away, and I know what she’s feeling.
That tug, the pull, to stay where we’re needed.
The weight of responsibility becomes an easy burden once you’ve carried it for long enough, but it isn’t ours to shoulder.
“Everyone will be fine without us. Ronan is awake and is already brighter than I was two days after waking up. Alistair has Lucas under his wing. And they’ll have to get used to us not being around eventually. ”
Her gray eyes are still filled with uncertainty. “Can we just leave like that?”
“We can do whatever the fuck we like. And if you really want to stay, we will. But I’m so fucking tired of worrying that you’ll walk out that door and it’ll be the last time I see you.” I cup her neck. “So, what do you say, Mrs. Harland? Can we be fucking done with all this already?”
Denver smiles and rests her hands on my chest, nodding. “Fuck it. Let’s leave.” The lightness in my chest is one I haven’t experienced in far too long. Hope. True joy. “When?”
“Well …” I tug her close. “I have one final city surprise that I’ve organized, so we can do that, then leave.”
“City surprise?” She wriggles excitedly. “Can I have a clue?”
I kiss her and she leans into it. My tongue sweeps into her mouth, catching her soft moan, and I back her into the wall, tugging at the towel, the material pooling at her feet.
“Let’s just say we won’t need to have quiet sex.
” I grip her behind, squeezing and kneading the muscle until a small gasp leaves her lips. “No more interruptions—”
“Knock, knock!” Lewis calls from the bedroom. “Denver, do you want a hot chocolate?”
I groan and Denver laughs. “Yes, please!”
“Colt?” he asks.
“This is why we need the city surprise,” I whisper-hiss, then call back, “No hot chocolate for me.”
I hear the door close, and Denver arches a brow. “You’re not sharing mine.”
“There’s only one thing I’m interested in tasting right now,” I say, getting to my knees and draping her leg over my shoulder. “And it isn’t hot fucking chocolate.”